


Heart Strings

by FriendlyNonMurdering



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, Blow Job, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is sick and dying, M/M, More Hurt Than Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, Sad Ending, same tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyNonMurdering/pseuds/FriendlyNonMurdering
Summary: “I can’t…get rid of him,” Gabriel spits. “He’s not a dog—”“—You know I didn’t mean that—”“—he’s a person, and Ilovehim, Ana. He is my family, myhusband.” Gabriel shakes his head. He scrapes his fingernails across his scalp before gathering the strength to look up at Ana. “He’s not always like this, Ana,” Gabe tries. It’s true; Jack isn’t always violent and scary. “Some days arereally good,” he promises. They’re fruitless. The bad days outweigh the good ones by far."There's going to be a day, Gabriel," she warns. Gabriel has heard this many times already. He rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe it. "A day where Jack won't feel sick. He'll feel like he's twenty. It will happen, and it might be the last time it happens."—“Alzheimer’s AU” by DaddyJackass





	Heart Strings

**Author's Note:**

> So I read over these http://archiveofourown.org/works/9477278/chapters/21442403 and #6 really spoke to me and then I totally ran way off course with it.

When Jack has a good day, Gabriel had a good day. When Jack has a bad day, Gabriel has a bad day. There’s no other way around it. Gabriel would like to think it’s something cute and fun, that it’s because they’re so closely connected that the way their days go coincides with each other. He likes to think that it’s not because Jack is sick.  
Sometimes Gabe wonders why he still does it. He wonders, often, if it’s still worth it. He spends hours at a time in front of his computer, listening to Jack crying three rooms over, researching a home that might be better equipped to take care of Jack than Gabe will ever be. 

Gabe wonders why, as he hears something shattering from inside Jack’s room—once a room that they shared together—why he doesn’t just leave already.

Gabe wonders why he can’t get his feet to move faster when he hears Jack breaking down like this.

It’s a bad day for everyone.

Angela and Ana try their best, Gabe knows that they do, but sometimes it’s not enough. Gabe enters the room, Jack half naked and looking wild like a cornered animal, with Angela and Ana pressed against the wall farthest away from him. Between them is the shrapnel of whatever Jack had thrown. It takes Gabe a long minute of staring at the brightly-colored clay to realize that it was something Jesse had made him when he was still a child. 

Gabe wants to be upset, but he can’t allow any of the other three in the room to see him like that. So instead of melting down as badly as Jack, Gabe rubs a hand over his hair, buzzed close to his scalp to hide the grays.

Jack makes a feral snarl when Gabe steps farther into the room. Gabe sighs.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Angela whispers. She sounds frightened. Gabe can’t blame her. He should have warned them that Jack was having a bad day. “He was okay with it last week; I didn’t think it would be any different today.” Her voice tapers away into nothingness.

Gabe shakes his head at the pair. “It’s okay,” he mutters. He knows that it isn’t okay. He knows that in a few hours, once the appointment has wrapped up, once Jack feels like cooperating, that Ana will slide him the brochure for another home for Jack. “I’ll handle it,” he says.

Ana gives Gabe a knowing look before she shoos Angela and herself out of the room. She delicately shuts the door behind the two of them. Gabe stands in the middle of the room, facing the shattered pottery and Jack on the far side of the bedroom. Jack looks like a rabid animal. 

His throat tight, Gabriel kneels and begins to pick up shards of clay. If Jack were to step on them, it would hurt him, and it would just be one more thing for Gabe to add to his checklist of things he had done wrong when it came to Jack. Gabe picks up an especially large shard, one that still has a mostly-whole image on it. There’s two stick figures, one taller in all blocky black clothing, and a shorter with a messily-painted cowboy hat on the top of its head.

Gabriel reminds himself to breathe as a frown drags hard at the corners of his lips. He loved that stupid pot—or was it a bowl? Gabe hates that he can’t even remember, now that it’s shattered in front of him.

Gabe wonders if meeting Jack had been a mistake.

He wonders what life would have been like if he had never met Jack, or kept the stupid white boy from Indiana close to his heart.

Gabe pauses before he picks up the next piece of pottery. Those thoughts leave him feeling empty. He knows it to be true, despite not wanting to admit it, that his life without Jack would be empty.

Even now, when Jack is wheezing and drooling from the exertion, Gabe knows that he could not live without Jack Morrison. 

It takes hours to calm Jack down, finish the routine checkup, and then get him settled for bed. He doesn’t eat dinner, so Ana hooks him up to an IV and stays around for it to drip for a while. They’ve learned the hard way that leaving Jack overnight with an IV will only end one of two ways. More than likely, it’ll end with him damaging something inside of his arm as he yanks it from his body.

Ana sits across from Gabe in the living room. Gabe has a cup of coffee in front of him, but he’s too busy holding his head in his hands to drink coffee. He’ll need it, though. If the day was anything to go by, it’s unlikely that Jack will sleep through the night at this rate. Ana crosses her legs one way. She uncrosses them. Crosses them the other way.

Gabe knows that she only fidgets when she has something to say.

“Spit it out,” Gabe croaks. 

Ana breathes out slowly. For any other person, it might be a sigh.

“You cannot keep doing this, Gabriel,” she says.

Gabe shoots her a withering glare. She’s been their friend, and Jack’s doctor, far too long for him to dismiss her opinions with spite. At this point, Gabe’s used to everybody telling him that he can no longer take care of Jack. Gabe almost longs for the time when people told him that he was so brave and honorable for choosing to take care of Jack, rather than send him away.

Ana breathes slowly. She watches Gabriel. He has nothing to say that he hasn’t already said to her. Ana is in the same boat, but it will not stop her from saying it again.

“You cannot keep doing this to _yourself_ , Gabriel,” she says.

“Ana,” Gabe pleads. His voice is broken. He presses the base of his palms into his eyes. He isn’t sure that he can keep himself from crying in front of Ana, despite his best efforts to restrain himself. “ _Don’t_.”

The weakness in Gabe’s voice makes Ana hesitate, but never for long. “You have proved more than enough, Gabriel,” she charges on. “You have proved that you love Jack. No one can ever say that you do not love him because it is obvious in everything that you do. I know, Gabriel, I know that you would give the world to him. You would give your life for him.” She pauses again. The ticking of the clock hanging on the wall is far too loud and grating. It reminds Gabriel of the seconds of Jack’s life that are withering away. “You _are_ giving your life for him.”

Gabriel can’t stop the tremble in his lower lip and chin. He lets it happen, lets it ride out until he has regained himself.

“I can’t… _get rid of him_ ,” Gabriel spits. “He’s not a dog—”

“—You know I didn’t mean that—”

“—he’s a person, and I _love_ him, Ana. He is my family, my _husband_.” Gabriel shakes his head. He scrapes his fingernails across his scalp before gathering the strength to look up at Ana. “He’s not always like this, Ana,” Gabe tries. It’s true; Jack isn’t always violent and scary. “Some days are _really good_ ,” he promises. They’re fruitless. The bad days outweigh the good ones by far.

"There's going to be a day, Gabriel," she warns. Gabriel has heard this many times already. He rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe it. "A day where Jack won't feel sick. He'll feel like he's twenty. It will happen, and it might be the last time it happens."

Ana finally looks away from Gabe. The raw emotion and hurt in his eyes are too much, even for her. She hates to see both of her best friends, less than reflections of what they used to be when she first met them.

“Someone could call you when he’s having a good day,” Ana assures. “It’s safer that way.”

“Jack isn’t dangerous,” Gabe knows it’s a lie and that it sounds ridiculous before the statement even leaves his mouth. He rubs at his lips, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. This will only be more ammo for Ana to use.

“Not dangerous?” Ana echoes. Gabe saw that one coming from a mile away. “Gabriel, I know that you love him, I know you still see the boy that he was, but he threw something heavy today.” Ana trails off. She clenches her fingers into tight fists. “What if he had thrown that at you? What if he had gotten outside, and thrown it at somebody on the street?”

Gabe shakes his head. He puts his hands over his ears much like a petulant child. He hates those questions. He will never find the answers he wants. And the answers that he wants are not the right answers. It’s entirely too possible that Jack will get up one day and hurt somebody. It was entirely too possible only a few hours earlier that he could have hurt Ana or Angela. They love Jack, he knows, but the company they work for would not tolerate such violence. Jack would be taken away before Gabe could blink.

That hurts.

Gabe chokes on a few heavy breaths. He fights back whatever traitorous emotion is burning his heart and the backs of his eyes.

“I will go take out his IV, Gabriel,” Ana says. She walks by Gabriel and pauses to put a hand on his shoulder. “Please consider a home, Gabriel. Please consider what’s best for Jack. And for yourself.”

Gabriel wants to scream. A thousand hurtful things lash at the back of his teeth, begging to be unleashed upon Ana. She doesn’t deserve the venom that he could spew. Gabriel swallows around the tight lump in his throat. Ana leaves.

Gabe waits for the screaming. There is only silence. Ana walks by a few minutes later and lets herself out with a heavy medical bag in her hand.

Gabriel sighs slowly. His back feels like he has been sitting in the chair for hours. His coffee has long gone cold by the time Gabe gets up to dump it down the sink. He drags his feet all the way to his room—once the guest room. He pauses by Jack’s room.

From within, there are only soft snores. Gabe nudges the door open silently. One curtain is open, letting in the delicate light of the moon. It makes the gray of Jack’s hair shine silver. The wrinkles in his skin are softened. Gabe can believe for half a second that Jack is young again.

And then Jack starts wheezing and coughing, thick spit forming at the corners of his lips.

Gabe is there in an instant with the crummy blue plastic pail that they keep tucked under the frame of the bed. Jack is lighter than he has ever been in his life, and it’s easy to turn him over onto his side. He goes easily with Gabe’s motions. 

They spend a few minutes like that, Jack wheezing and retching up oozing globules of bile into the pail. Gabe strokes Jack’s side, feeling more than a little sick himself. He thinks on Ana’s words. What was best for Gabe? What was best for Jack?

Gabe thinks, as he pushes Jack’s hair back, and pets his side, and rubs his back, and tells Jack that _it’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you, I love you_ , that this is the best place for Jack. Gabe isn’t certain, but he thinks that it is. He doesn’t think that anybody in a home would have the effort to spare on Jack at a time like this.

He hates to think of what they would shove down his throat or how many needles they would stick in his arm after all the times Jack vomits without even a bite of solid food in his stomach. There’s a flicker of something akin to happiness in Gabe’s chest when he teases the young, golden Jack in his brain that he’s always been hypersensitive to medication.

It takes Jack a while to stop vomiting.

When he does, he looks up at Gabriel. Gabriel swears that he can see some form of recognition in those silvery eyes. He remembers the day he met Jack when those eyes were as blue as the sky above and as deep as the ocean. 

“Is it my time?” Jack asks.

Gabe furrows his eyebrows at Jack. He sets the bucket down but keeps it within reach. Gabe fumbles in the bedside table for a moment before pulling out a rag and dabbing it against Jack’s lips.

“Your time for what, Jack?” Gabe asks back.

Jack furrows his thin eyebrows. He opens his mouth to speak, but only makes another dreadful retch. Gabriel eyes the bucket, coiled tense in case he needs to catch anything, but nothing comes.

“Is it my time to die?” Jack asks, his voice crackling like an old tape.

Horror washes over Gabriel. He lets out a weak, shuddering breath as he stares at Jack. He knows he must look terrible, torn between a grimace and a frown and unable to get his jaw to shut for the life of him.

“I’m okay with that if it is,” Jack says. He adjusts in Gabriel’s grip and turns with a weak groan onto his back once more. He keeps his ghostly eyes trained on Gabriel. “I’d say I’ve lived a good life.”

Another shudder of an exhale escapes Gabe. He’s once again overcome with the urge to scream. Jack has not lived a fulfilling life at all, not by Gabe’s standards. Fulfilling life would be being surrounded by Jesse and his ten thousand adopted children and dogs, within the company of family. Fulfilling would have been going without trauma in a war, going without internalized self-hatred for what they really are.

Gabe can’t find his voice to say any of these things. It’s like watching a train wreck, and he can’t bring himself away, wondering what else Jack is going to say in his addled state.

“I hurt a lot,” Jack whispers. “And the medicine the angel gives me makes me sick.” Jack frowns deeply. “And I’m a burden to my husband.”

Gabriel looks away sharply. There was no way in Hell he’d be able to hide the demonic mix of rage and sorrow on his face. He clenches his hands into fists, digging his nails so far into his palms that he can feel the aged skin there begin to give.

Does he look like a demon to Jack? He was no longer Jack’s husband, only the devil that was sent there to kill him?

“No,” Gabe chokes out. “It’s not your time.” It’s hard to speak, harder than it ever has been in his life.

“Oh,” Jack says. He sounds so disappointed. “Is my name on the roster anytime soon?”

“No,” Gabriel spits.

He leaves after that. He can’t take it.

For the rest of the night, Jack is relatively quiet. He gives a few shouts, but Gabriel can tell that they’re from nightmares and are totally harmless in the long run. Other than that, he snores. Sometimes they’re disturbingly loud, piercing right through Gabriel’s sleep. Other times, they’re soft enough that any other person might overlook them. 

Waking up that morning is easy for Gabe. Nothing is happening. For once, it’s peaceful. Gabe takes his time getting ready before tapping on the door to Jack’s room. He hears a small groan. 

Gabe takes that as permission to enter.

What he sees shocks him.

Jack is sitting up in bed. Gabe has to mentally double-check and make sure that he didn’t come in here at some point earlier in the morning, too exhausted to remember propping Jack against his pillows. Gabe is positive that he hasn’t checked on Jack until now.

“Morning,” Jack harrumphs.

He’s fighting weakly against a pair of slippers that he can’t seem to get on his feet properly. 

Gabe doesn’t know if it’s more astounding that Jack is entirely dressed as if he has somewhere to be, or that he is speaking to Gabriel like a human being. There’s no shrieking, no asking if Gabriel was there to kill him.

It’s wonderful.

“Good morning, Jack,” Gabriel replies.

Jack snorts when he looks over at Gabriel. He wiggles his foot that he’s having the most trouble with. Gabriel goes over to help him get the slipper on. He feels the urge to smile, poking fun at Jack’s sandals and socks fashion choice, but it isn’t strong enough to break through Gabe’s frown. 

“Jack?” Jack scoffs. He makes a few, very grandpa-like disapproving grunts and snuffles. “Since when have you been so informal?”

It’s then that Gabriel realizes that this morning, Gabriel is not Jack’s husband. He is Jack’s caretaker. Gabriel doesn’t know when along the line the roles blurred and then separated out again, but it’s frustrating. Jack recognizes him, but not in the right way.

“Apologies, Mr. Morrison,” Gabriel corrects. He makes sure that Jack’s other slipper is set on his foot properly. “Are you going somewhere today, Mr. Morrison?”

Jack grumbles to himself. He barely needs Gabriel’s help when he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Already, he is fumbling for his cane. Gabriel observes, waiting passively in case Jack needs any help getting himself upright. There are days when Jack doesn’t need the cane. Gabriel reminds himself that for the past week and a half, Jack hasn’t gotten out of bed. Using a cane is monumental when compared to that.

“I’m going downtown,” Jack answers.

He shuffles himself out of the doorway and through the house like it was second nature. Gabriel trails a distance behind him, but close enough to lunge and catch should Jack fall.

“May I ask why?” Gabe inquires.

“ _Bah_ ,” is all he gets, paired with an annoyed wave of Jack’s hand.

Gabriel breathes in deeply and exhales slowly. Jack has set his mind, and Gabriel is unsure if he can change it at this point. What’s the worst that could happen? Gabe rolls his eyes at himself. A lot of terrible things could happen when Jack gets this stubborn.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to haul himself outside and then into Gabe’s car. Gabe is barely out the front door, with only a few seconds to lock it behind the two of them, before Jack is leaning over the center console and slamming his fist down on the horn. The whole time, he glowers at Gabriel like the crotchety old man that he is. 

Gabe glares back at Jack, but he can feel a spark of fondness in his chest.

He considers taking his dear sweet time as he walks over to Jack’s side of the car, but he restrains himself. 

Jack has the window rolled all the way down, and Gabriel leans in.

“Seatbelt?” he asks.

Jack grumbles. “Why should I?” he snaps. “Because I’ll die if we get in a wreck?”

Gabe feels like he’s been punched. He wrenches open Jack’s door and forces the seatbelt over Jack’s chest. It’s a risky move, it might send Jack into a rage, but he stays calm aside from indignant sputtering. 

“Because I’ll get pulled over if a cop sees you without one,” Gabe says.

After that, the ride is peaceful. They argue over the radio for a few minutes too long, but it doesn’t bother Gabriel in the slightest. It makes him feel normal for once.

By the time Gabriel finds a suitable spot downtown and throws the car into park, Jack is already out of the car and hobbling down the street. Gabe groans and rolls his eyes, but breaks into a light jog to catch up to Jack. He walks next to Jack, and notices all the stares that they get. Most are fond. Gabe knows that he and Jack make a cute couple; they always have. 

Jack eyes up several storefronts before deciding on one that he particularly likes. He shuffles on in. Gabe stares at the merchandise in the windows and then looks up to the store name.

_A flower shop_? Of all places, Jack brought them downtown with all of the urgency the man could muster, for a flower shop?

Gabe can see Jack puttering around inside the store. He gives it a few moments before going in after Jack. He has no idea what the man is planning, or if there’s even enough of his brain in there to formulate a convoluted plan. Gabe remains on the sidelines as Jack evaluates and turns his nose at various bouquets of flowers. 

Eventually, after what feels like hours, he settles on a bouquet. He pays for it at the counter, and the discussion between him and the young female clerk seems clipped, but polite. Gabriel is proud of him. The clerk giggles and Jack gets flustered. He grumbles as he takes his card back from the young girl.

In the car on their way back home, Jack clutches the flowers like a lifeline. Gabe reminds him more than once that if he smothers the flowers, they won’t last until Jack gets home. 

“What are they for?” Gabe asks. He’s asked many times, but Jack has refused to answer each and every time Gabe brings it up.

It seems that Jack is still not in the mood for answering. He holds the flowers close to his seatbelted chest. 

“Why do you need to know?” Jack snarks.

“I’m curious,” Gabe answers. “That’s all.”

Jack mutters to himself under his breath. Gabe doesn’t catch a word of it, but that’s okay. It’s starting to dawn on him, just how long Jack has been in a good mood today. Sourpuss wasn’t what other people would call a good mood, but it’s better than demolishing priceless memories of Gabriel’s son. 

They get inside, and Jack starts to rustle through cupboards. He procures a vase and fills it up with tap water. He even has the mind to cut off the bottom of the stems—with Gabriel watching like a hawk the entire time—before he sticks the flowers into the water. Then he begins to rifle through things again. When he pops back up at the counter, Jack shoves a bottle of wine at Gabriel.

“Open that,” he demands.

“Yes sir,” Gabe replies with a lazy salute.

Jack shoots him a look, one that might be recognition for the words or the action. If Gabe was lucky, maybe he recognized both of those things put together. The look doesn’t last for long. Jack goes digging for wine glasses.

He sets them on the counter a moment after Gabriel gets the bottle open, and he pours wine into both glasses until Jack is satisfied.

“What’s all this for?” Gabe asks again. Part of him hopes. It’s a big part of him, swelling deep within his gut. Flowers, wine, two glasses. It’s all perfect. He hopes so hard that it starts to hurt him.

“My husband’s birthday,” Jack replies.

Gabriel’s hope explodes like a balloon that had a stake driven through it. Everything about him is crushed down all at once. He should have known. Should have seen it coming. Jack hadn’t recognized him all day, why would that change now? It wasn’t even near Gabriel’s birthday. Jack had no idea what was happening.

Despite that, it’s a good day.

“He should be coming home soon,” Jack explains. He eyes Gabriel warily. “You can stay until he shows up, but not after that,” he says.

Gabriel quirks an eyebrow, but it doesn’t go very far. “Oh?” he asks. His voice sounds like nothing. “Got a romantic evening planned?” he teases. He wishes that he could put an ounce of emotion into his words. They fall flat and miserable.

Jack doesn’t notice. He splutters at Gabe, and his cheeks turn the tiniest bit red. Gabe’s smile, buried long ago under layers of strain and weariness, attempts to break through. It can’t.

They spend far too long waiting for Jack’s husband to arrive home from work. Jack tells Gabriel about his husband’s son, how the rascal eloped to Japan with another hooligan he had only known for a week and a half. It amuses him to no end that his husband’s son refers to his betrothed as ‘his dragon.’ Jack talks about lots of things that Gabriel already knows, but Gabriel can play along and attempt some banter about all those young punks that are leaving Jack and his husband in the dust.

At midnight, Gabriel attempts to get Jack into bed.

At two a.m., a switch flips in Jack’s brain. 

Gabe wishes that he hadn’t jinxed himself so early in the night, declaring that the day had been a good one.

At four a.m., Gabriel picks up the last smattering of flower petals from the kitchen tiles.

At eight a.m., with Jack tucked into bed and snoring soundly, Gabriel calls Ana.

She’s probably working, but she answers Gabe’s call on the first ring.

“Gabriel?” she asks. “Is something the matter?”

Gabe tries to place a timeframe on when Ana went from asking ‘is everything okay’ to ‘is something the matter.’ Gabriel stares at the wall in front of him. There’s a massive dent from where Jack hurled the vase at it. He stares for so long at the wine-stained carpet that he’s ready to wait for Ana to hang up on him, but she never does.

The tears come all at once.

It starts with a tightening in Gabe’s throat and chest. Then there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach. Then the backs of his eyes are set on fire. Then there’s tears pouring from his eyes and snot leaking from his nose.

He tries to hold back the noises, but he’s helpless against the raw hurt that rips out of him. 

Jack sleeps like the dead; he won’t know anything that’s happening.

Ana lets Gabe cry. He doesn’t know for how long he lets himself sob unchecked. At the end of it, he’s a shuddering, hiccupping mess. He doesn’t know that he’s cried this hard since the first time he’d had his heart broken in middle school by Jaime Gonzalez. 

Gabe feels pathetic. He is pathetic. The words he longs to say are on the back of his tongue, but his throat is so constricted it’s impossible to get anything past his lips. He faintly registers Ana shushing him on the other end of the line. She’s been nothing but patient with Gabriel, and it’s everything that he could have ever needed and more.

After what must have been half an hour of unbidden emotions, Gabe finds his voice. Ana's words are like a bell in his ear. Jack's day, compared to the past God knows how long, was amazing. 

“I can’t do this.”

Jack wakes up late that afternoon. Gabe is in his chair, hunched over and looking solemn. In front of him on the coffee table is one of their massive photo albums, open wide. Jack approaches him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Gabe jumps so high he could have levitated. He whips around to look at Jack. He looks like a frightened rabbit.

Jack chuckles. His voice is a little sore, but he thinks he sounds good for once. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says.

Gabe’s eyes are wide and rimmed with bright red as he looks up at Jack. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, searching for the right words that won’t come to him. 

“Jack?” he whispers. His voice cracks terribly.

Jack furrows his eyebrows. “Gabe?” he asks. “Have you been crying?”

Gabe sniffs hard and scrubs his eyes with the backs of his hands. He tries to laugh, but he doesn’t smile, and it certainly doesn’t reach his eyes. Jack furrows his eyebrows more.

“Yeah, I, uh…” Gabe trails off. He looks around the two of them as if looking for something that might help him. His eyes land on the photo album. “I was taking a trip down memory lane,” he offers.

Jack gives Gabe a smile. He knows that Gabriel didn’t tell him the whole truth, but he won’t push Gabriel if Gabriel doesn’t feel up to it. There are some things that are better left unsaid.

“Can I join you?” Jack asks.

Gabriel nods. He scoots over on the couch, making room for Jack. He keeps his wide eyes on Jack the entire time as he settles in beside his husband.

“Are you feeling okay?” Gabe asks.

Jack thinks for a moment and then nods. He scoots forward to grab the photo album and then flips it back to the very first page of the album. 

“Feeling great,” Jack answers confidently.

Jack doesn’t know why, but that seems to make Gabriel infinitely more times sadder. Jack flips through a few pages of photos until he finds one that he is sure will cheer Gabriel up in no time. 

It’s of Jesse, hanging upside-down on a set of monkey bars. He has a gun in one hand and is pointing it threateningly toward the photographer. He’s missing at least five teeth, and he’s got a nasty black shiner on his left eye.

“Little shit,” Gabe scoffs.

Jack thinks he hears a little bit of a smile in Gabe’s voice.

Gabriel pushes his hand over his forehead as if smoothing down hair he no longer has. Jack’s words are haunting in his ears. They ring around like a shot fired too close to his head. Jack looked for all the world like he was thirty and bounding around like a spry young thing. Gabe wants to feel happy, but all he feels is sick to his stomach.

Even Ana had warned him many times before. 

Before the end, there was going to be a high.

Gabe shakes his head feverishly. He looks to Jack, and then back to the photo. The silence lingers for a little too long, turning the slightest bit awkward.

“He used to get in fights all the time,” he sighs. “I could tell him day in and day out that it wasn’t the way to solve things, but monkey see monkey do. If I was willing to get into fights, Jesse was, too.”

They flip through pictures for hours. Jack feels fine the entire time. _Better than fine he says_. Jack laughs about it. Gabe tries to laugh with him. 

By the time the sun has set, they’ve got five photo albums set out. They’re onto what Jack considers one of the more embarrassing albums. It’s ninety percent memorabilia that Gabe has collected over the years—war photos and propaganda, news articles, magazine interviews, the whole shebang—and ninety percent of _that_ is just of Jack. It makes him fluctuate between squirming and preening, with no idea how to react under such praise.

This album, however, also houses two of Jack’s favorite photos. 

Both photos are of them at their wedding. The quality of the images is pristine, and they’re taken only moments apart from each other. The first is of Jack, slipping the ring onto Gabriel’s finger. There’s a dopey smile on Jack’s face, eyebrows raised and eyes as puppy-dog as they will ever get. In the photo, the tears streaking down Gabriel’s cheeks are obvious. 

The next photo makes Jack bark with laughter, no matter how many times he sees it. Gabe threatens, like always, that he’s going to burn the damn thing. 

“But it’s my _favorite_ ,” Jack whines.

That only makes Gabriel grumble more.

In the second photo, Gabriel is nothing but a blur as he dives for the wedding ring that he dropped through the haze of his tears. His expression is crazed, with streaks of white following his eyes and his limbs fuzzy as he flies to try and grab the ring before it hits the ground. Jack is half a second from laughing in the photo. His expression is hideous, but it’s amazing all the same. His mouth is drawn tight and half-open. His hands are still where they had been, hovering in a very raptor-esque way, frozen from where Gabe had been holding them before he fumbled the ring.

“Okay,” Gabriel mutters, “we can keep it for a while longer.”

“You can never get rid of this,” Jack insists. “It’s one of the greatest moments of our lives, captured on film. Why would you ever want to get rid of it?”

Gabriel goes on his year-long tirade of _exactly_ why he wants to get rid of it, but Jack isn’t listening. He’s flipping through more photos. He stops a few pages after the wedding ones, sparing a few seconds for the classic photos of both of them smeared with frosting and cake, and one of Jesse attempting to get away with eating ten butter balls at once. Those make him chuckle, too.

Jack falls into a reverent silence when he comes upon a photo of him, Gabe, and Jesse all sacked out on the couch. It’s Christmas, made obvious by their Santa hats and Jesse’s pajamas. Jesse’s new bike is propped up in the background. He’d worn the three of them out within three hours of getting the damn thing.

Jack traces his finger over their faces. He lingers on his own and Gabriel’s.

“You used to be so handsome,” Jack muses.

That pulls Gabriel from his rant. He arches an eyebrow at Jack. For the first time in what feels like decades—foggy, hazy decades—Gabriel is smiling at Jack. It seems off, but Jack will take what he can get.

“Are you saying that I’m not still handsome?” he questions.

Jack rolls his eyes, exasperated. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant.”

Gabe shrugs. He throws his arm around Jack’s shoulders and draws him in close to his body. “You were handsome, too,” he says. Before Jack can get a word in edgewise, he keeps talking. “Always have been. Prettiest _gringo_ I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Jack raises an eyebrow back at Gabriel. “You say that a lot.”

Gabriel turns to Jack. His smile turns from smarmy to fond in a heartbeat. He admires Jack. He loves everything about this man, from his receding, gray hair, to the deep gouges across his face. His eyes may be haunting, but Gabriel cannot look away from them.

Slowly, he leans in for a kiss. Gabriel expects the screaming. He expects to be bludgeoned with a five-pound photo album.

He does not expect to feel the soft press of Jack’s lips against his own.

It feels like their first kiss. Neither of them had been teenagers at the time, but from the way that the first kiss went, they may as well have been. It was awkward and nervous, with neither of them knowing exactly how to move around with the things that they were feeling or thinking. 

Jack, surprisingly, is the one to push. He leans into Gabe and puts both hands on Gabriel’s cheeks. He draws his husband in and kisses him for all that he is worth. Gabe can’t say no. He wouldn’t say no if someone paid him a billion dollars.

It isn’t long before they are kissing open-mouthed, tongues touching shyly at first but then gaining confidence. Jack’s stomach is flipping so hard that it almost makes him sick. He feels like he’s about to go on stage and give a speech. It’s nerve-wracking in a way that he hasn’t felt before. Not that it’s bad, but it’s not familiar to him at all.

Something about this seems different.

Gabriel seems desperate.

And he is. Gabriel urges Jack to lie back, and they do. Gabriel’s hands roam up and down Jack’s body, feeling him from top to bottom with shaky palms and trembling fingers. Jack moves like a snake under him, smothered delightfully by Gabriel’s weight and the heat of his body. Jack is panting hard, harder than he probably should be. It makes Gabriel pause.

“Jack, are you… Will you be okay?” Gabe asks.

Jack all but snarls at Gabriel. Gabe waits for the snarling to continue, but it was nothing more than some mild annoyance. It makes his heart soar to know that Jack is still with him at least for now.

“Gabe, I’m old, not dying,” Jack scoffs.

Gabe isn’t sure that the second part of his words is true, but he doesn’t have the heart to correct Jack. He isn’t sure that he’ll ever have the heart to correct Jack. He looks down at him and sees the beautiful man that he married all those years ago. His hair may have gone white, and he might have crow’s feet and deep smile lines, but he is still beautiful.

“You’re sure?” Gabe asks. He won’t do this—can’t do this—until he hears a yes.

Jack rolls his eyes. “Yes, Gabe, I’m sure.”

It doesn’t take anything more than that for Gabe to dive back in and kiss Jack again. Jack’s fingers dance along Gabe’s sides, and it doesn’t take long until clothes are being shucked off and tossed across the living room. Both of them gasp and freeze when Jack’s shirt catches on the lamp in the corner and makes it wobble precariously. When nothing happens, they both devolve into raucous laughter that shakes them from the inside out.

Jack gasps below Gabriel when he drags down Jack’s loose pajama bottoms. Gabriel would kill to see that ass in jeans again, but he knew that it wasn’t realistic. Besides, pajamas are easier to get off than jeans.

Gabriel kisses his way down Jack’s feverish chest as he pulls those fleece pants off inch by agonizing inch. He slides his hands back up Jack’s body, grabbing at his chest greedily. His muscles are no longer as pronounced as when they were younger—not that Gabriel can blame him, or that he has any reason to complain, it isn’t like Gabriel is in peak condition either—but Jack is still just as sensitive as ever.

Gabe’s thumbs flick over his nipples, and Jack keens loudly beneath Gabe. He presses his head back into the couch, exposing the long column of his pale throat. Unable to help himself, Gabe shimmies himself up and latches onto Jack’s throat. He’s careful not to pierce the skin with his teeth, but he sucks and nibbles at the junction between Jack’s neck and his shoulder until Gabe is certain that he’s going to have a dark purple bruise for a very, very long time.

“Keep that up, and this isn’t going to last much longer,” Jack warns.

Gabe almost wants to laugh again. Some groping and a hickie later and Jack is ready to mess his pants? It would be childish if it weren’t so flattering.

Despite the fact that they’ve done this many, many, _many_ times before, Gabriel feels nearly sick to his stomach as he moves down Jack’s body once more. He laves his tongue over both of Jack’s nipples, working them into stiff peaks before kissing and nipping a line down his chest and stomach. 

Neither of them was thirty anymore, and both of them certainly look like they are pushing the wrong side of sixty. At that moment, though, it doesn’t matter to either of them.  
Gabe wraps his lips around Jack’s cock, relishing in the moan that rips its way out of Jack’s throat. Gabriel wants to sink himself into Jack one last time, but he knows that it might not be a possibility. Rather than fret, Gabriel sets himself to the task at hand.

Jack is moaning and squirming like a wanton teenager, and it’s everything Gabe needs in his life and more. It’s intoxicating to listen to the different ways Jack’s voice changes in pitch or volume when Gabriel presses his tongue just so on the underside of Jack’s cock. When he suckles at the reddened, leaking tip, Jack mostly shudders and pants heavily. When Gabriel rolls Jack’s balls in his hand and then dips his hand down to brush his thumb across Jack’s entrance, Jack all but screams.

Gabriel isn’t sure for how long he’s at it, but he wouldn’t mind if this were how he spent the rest of his life with Jack. Hearing Jack, on the complete opposite end of pain, far away from creaky limbs and imaginary angels and devils and terrible tantrums. Gabriel never wants this to end.

“Gabe,” Jack pleads, his voice grating and worn. “Gabe, _please_.”

Any other day, Gabe would have loved that begging. This day, though, it causes a hitch in Gabriel’s breath. He reaches up with his hands, snares one of Jack’s in one hand, and sets his other hand over Jack’s heart. It beats erratically under the tips of his fingers, like the wings of a hummingbird. 

Gabe doesn’t want this to end.

He doesn’t want them to end.

“Gabe, I love you.”

Gabe isn’t sure if he did something different, or if Jack’s words finished him. As soon as he spits them out between clenched teeth, something warm floods over Gabriel’s tongue. He laps it up without complaint. There’s barely a second before he swallows it all and Jack is dragging him up for a bruising kiss.

Jack’s hand is insistent, palming at the front of Gabe’s pants. But there is no hardness there. Jack deflates like a balloon.

“Gabe?” he whispers.

Gabe shakes his head. “I’m old, Jack,” he says.

There must be enough frustration in his voice to cover the crushing weight of Gabe’s horror and misery because Jack accepts the answer. He’s pulled in for another kiss, this one softer and less urgent than before.

Gabe relaxes and rests his body on top of Jack’s. He pets through Jack’s hair, and Jack rubs at the soft fuzz growing in on Gabe’s scalp. They’re content to lazily kiss each other through the rest of the night.

When Jack starts yawning, Gabriel’s anxiety spikes. There’s no telling how exhaustion will affect Jack’s mind.

“Gabe?” Jack murmurs.

Gabe wants to ignore it. He wants to pour coffee down Jack’s throat to keep him awake. He wants this to last.

“Yeah?” Gabe replies, against all better judgment.

“I’m tired,” Jack says.

“Oh,” is all Gabe can manage. He feels like a hand is reaching into his chest, and is closing its fat fingers around his heart.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?”

Gabe forces out a strangled chuckle. The hand starts to pull at Gabe’s heart. It tugs ruthlessly. “Haven’t I already done that?”

“Haha,” Jack says, dryly. He’s quiet, but only for a few seconds. “I’ve been having bad nightmares. I want someone there with me.”

Gabe nods in resignation.

They go to bed.

Jack falls asleep first.

Gabe stays for a while longer until he is sure that Jack is sound asleep. Then he sneaks away to his own room before Jack wakes up with no memory of what happened between the two of them. 

Gabe finds that he can’t sleep.

The hand has ripped his heart out of his chest. Gabriel looks up at the ceiling, watching as the hand closes down and the blood floods his bed.

\---

Gabe has good days.

Gabe has bad days.

Gabe wonders why he even bothers with life as he screams and smashes every last piece of glass in his kitchen.

It's the first time he's ever spent a night alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought in the comments? Or hit me up on twitter @Nonmurdering if you want to, I've got no Overwatch friends.


End file.
